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Brielle and Clover share a laugh, and I smile, genuinely happy for the first time in a long while.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that, why don’t you tell us the real reason my dear sister came for a visit,” Lawrence says as he takes my seat at the table. “What’s she plotting?”

“I don’t know.” I sheathe my sword. “We’re not on the best of terms, so she tells me little.”

“You looked like you were on decent terms in the boat as you came ashore,” Clover says as if she can’t help herself.

I look at her, silently reminding her what we talked about last night. Her eyes lock on mine, making me wish we were alone.

Lawrence’s gaze passes between us, and his frown deepens. “She must have a purpose. She wouldn’t leave her stronghold for no reason.”

“She would if she thought it would hurt Henrik,” Brielle says quietly, making me realize my sister is more aware of the current situation than I hoped.

Lawrence turns his head toward the window. Perhaps it’s just me, but he looks like he feelsguilty—not an emotion I’m accustomed to seeing him wear.

Hesitantly, Pranmore asks, “Perhaps it’s time to break the engagement?”

“It would cause chaos,” Lawrence says, still avoiding eye contact with me.

Clover groans and rubs her temples. “Especially with Camellia here. The people are already nervous about Lawrence taking the throne—and who could blame them?”

“Thank you, Clover,” Lawrence says wryly.

Clover shrugs at him, smiling as if it’s an inside joke between the two of them. A bout of jealousy plagues me when I remember, yet again, how comfortable they are with each other.

Perhaps picking up on my discomfort, Pranmore decides it’s time to change the subject. “How is Audra? Did Camellia punish her for helping us escape?”

“There was so much pandemonium that night, neither Camellia nor Augmirian seemed to fully grasp the events that surrounded your departure.”

“And what about Ayan?” Lawrence asks. “Has he been discovered?”

“Not yet.”

“I didn’t see Audra when you arrived,” he says. “I assume she stayed with her mother and Lyredon in Revalane?”

“That’s right. They weren’t one of the families Camellia chose to travel with us.”

“And the High Vales—do they know about the necklaces?” Clover asks. “Surely they haven’t given the princess their allegiance willfully?”

From the corner of my eye, I see Brielle absently touch her throat.

“No, they’re not following her by choice. She controls the nobility, and through them, the army and the people.”

“If we could just find a way to remove the necklaces…” Bartholomew muses.

“I’m working on it,” Pranmore vows, though he looks dispirited. “But the magic is so tangled.”

Clover then explains their theory about Hellebore lending her magic, and I tell them that I believe Camellia has been taking her blood as well.

“Pranmore,” Clover asks, “if Camellia used High Vale blood in her magic, would that transfer to the curse?”

He thinks about it, shaking his head. “I have no idea. I know so little about blood magic, other than it’s repulsive. It would likely take a lifetime to study the effects of merging the two.”

“We don’t have a lifetime,” Clover points out.

The Woodmore gives her a frustrated look. “I’m aware.”

A knock at the door startles us all, and we freeze.